


The Place I Belong

by shipsthatcouldshowyouthestars



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stardew Valley, Becky works at the clinic, Emma dyed her hair with Kool-Aid, Emma is a farmer, F/F, Past Abuse, Past unrequited love, Paul had a childhood crush on Emma, WLW Farmer AU, tags to be updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27440680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipsthatcouldshowyouthestars/pseuds/shipsthatcouldshowyouthestars
Summary: Hatchetfield was still homely and small, like somewhere she could enjoy being if she didn’t despise small-towns. Gossip spread too quickly. She had left for a reason, and now she was back. She could’ve just sold the land, but she didn’t. Something inside her begged her to go back and run the farm. It was what Jane would have wanted to see.In Which: Emma Perkins comes home to Hatchetfield to run her late sister's farm.
Relationships: Becky Barnes/Emma Perkins, Paul Matthews & Emma Perkins, Tom Houston & Emma Perkins
Comments: 31
Kudos: 11





	1. Back Home

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to a short farmer au !! very excited for this one :)

Emma Perkins received the deed to the farm in the mail. Witchwood Farm in a little town called Hatchetfield. Her sister, Jane, had owned it with her husband and child before she passed away in an unfortunate accident. Tom didn’t want the farm. He said it was ‘too much work’, which meant Emma now owned it due to hierarchy. Their parents had died long before.

The bus took her into town. Hatchetfield was still homely and small, like somewhere she could enjoy being if she didn’t despise small-towns. Gossip spread too quickly. She had left for a reason, and now she was back. She could’ve just sold the land, but she didn’t. Something inside her begged her to go back and run the farm. It was what Jane would have wanted to see. Emma Marie, back in Hatchetfield, selling crops wearing overalls with dirt-stained knees and ratty sneakers.

She got off the bus begrudgingly and almost immediately was met with a cheerful woman. She had sparkling blue eyes and auburn hair that was pinned back. Emma held back a scoff at her sweater and long, flowing skirt. 

“You must be Emma,” The woman said to her. “I’m Charlotte. I work at the saloon. We just got out of services, well, most of us anyway.” She was way too excited for a Sunday morning. Maybe it was the Spirit of God or whatever god they followed. Jane’s letters hadn’t been detailed enough for her to know, and God, she didn’t remember it at all. “So come on in, the mayor’s expecting you.” She smiled and led Emma down the dirt path. The houses seemed very quaint, small with cats lazily lying in the windows and flower boxes hanging outside them. A few people walked by them, looking at Emma and greeting Charlotte kindly. A girl with two brown braids holding a girl with uneven brown hair’s hand ducked into the blacksmith’s to greet the teenage boy working alongside Tom himself. Emma had half the mind to go talk to him. But not yet. It was still fresh. 

Charlotte led her into the mayor’s house, which Emma found a little odd, but it was fine. It was nicely decorated, pictures of the townspeople littered the walls. Emma’s heart twisted when she saw Jane’s smiling face next to Tom’s. The mayor turned around. He was older, his hair graying at the roots as well as his mustache. 

“You must be Emma,” He said kindly, full of warmth. Emma wasn’t used to that. Guatemala was full of loud, outspoken people. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” He held his hand out and Emma shook it slowly. “I’m Mayor Lewis, the mayor of this town.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Emma said, pulling away and looking around. A pot of tulips sat on his desk, pink and yellow buds peeking out of green stems as they began to bloom. Mayor Lewis cleared his throat. Here came the difficult part: Jane.

“I’m sorry about Jane,” He said, “She was a good woman. I don’t know how the accident happened, truth be told.” He sighed, looking around. “She was loved by all of us here. I’m sure you understand, a small town such as ourselves…”   
  


“Yeah,” Emma kept her response short. The grief and guilt weighed in her stomach. “I get it.” She knew she’d never meet their perception of Jane. Jane Anne Perkins. Oldest child, off to college and back by the time she was 20. Sober, perfect, personable. Married at 23 and had her first and only kid by 25. She had it all figured out, a binder full of her plans they’d read under candlelight on hot summer nights. The one woman who could tame young Emma. The one who received the most backlash from teen Emma. “I’ll be running the farm from now on.”

“Great,” Lewis smiled. “You can start by going to Pierre’s and picking up some seeds. He might have his son in there with him. You might remember him, Paul?” 

“Yeah,” Emma nodded. “I remember him.” Paul had been like Jane to her. Put together. Quiet. Artistic. A little anxious, fumbling over boxes and packets of seeds whenever Emma came to the counter for her parents as a teenager. Whether it was because she was intimidating with her jet-black dyed hair and self-done piercings or because he had a crush on her, she couldn’t tell. “Thank you.” She ducked out the door and back into the sunshine. Charlotte had disappeared into one of the houses and Emma took in her surroundings. 

She had to admit the town was charming. Teenage Emma had wanted nothing more than to get out of this place, go as far away as she could. She could end up in a city, get some biology job, and then never think about this place again. Of course, the world worked in weird ways, and now she was back. At least the springs weren’t chilly.

She pushed open the door to Pierre’s and the little bell jingled as she did. She remembered that sound very well. She remembered picking flour and sugar up for her mother to bake with. Paul Matthews stared directly at her from the shelf that held the seed packets, stocking them.

“Emma?” He looked shocked. Shocked to see her again in this town. Which was a very valid emotion. Emma was feeling it too. She didn’t think she’d be back either. Actually, if she could have prevented being back, she really would have.

“Hi, Paul,” Emma said. She gave him unenthusiastic jazz hands. “Surprise.” She snatched a tulip packet from the front selection, placing it in the wicker basket they’d oh so carefully placed at the front of the store. Tulips reminded her of Jane. They’d be nice to grow outside the farmhouse. “I’m back.” She didn’t sound enthusiastic. She didn’t really want to.

“Yeah.” Paul blushed a bit. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you back here.” 

“Neither did I,” Emma said, sighing. She went over and looked at the seeds he’d so meticulously put on the shelves moments before. The store seemed a little emptier than she remembered before. Like it was becoming less and less populated. “But I am. What’s for sale?”

“Well, um, we’ve got tulips, cauliflower, beans, lots more,” He gestured to his carefully created seed display. Emma rifled through them, picking a few and tossing them in her basket. “I’m, er, sorry about Jane, Emma.” 

“Yeah,” Emma said, putting the basket on the counter maybe a little more aggressively than she needed to. She didn’t meet his eyes. “Me too.” 

“Don’t worry about paying,” Paul said quickly. “These are on the house, to, um, to welcome you back to town.” He stopped her and slipped a chocolate bar into her basket when she wasn’t looking. She took it off and nodded. “Bye, Emma.”   
  
“Bye, Paul.” She said shortly. She left Pierre’s and the keys to the farmhouse were weighing in her pocket. She hadn’t stopped in yet. Charlotte had taken her bag back to it for her so she could wander around. She tried to think who she wanted to see.

She ducked into Harvey’s Clinic, the town doctor. She didn’t see Harvey, but she was faced with someone else. Someone she was expecting to see hanging off Tom’s arm. Not in a clinic, helping patients at the register.

  
“Oh, Emma?”   
  
Becky Barnes stood at the counter, red hair tied back in a ponytail and a blue sweater covering her, much different than the sundresses and the curls she wore in high school before Emma completely left Hatchetfield. Much different than the Becky Emma remembered.


	2. Nurse Barnes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> emma gets to talk to becky and then goes back to the famrhouse to see her new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a description-heavy chapter, and while it's a little short, it's just descriptions for the most part. hope you enjoy!

“Hi, Emma, I didn’t even realize you were coming back today,” Becky said to Emma. Emma was lost in her thoughts. Since when was Becky Barnes  _ that _ pretty? “I thought it would’ve been longer, or that you weren’t coming back at all. I’m sorry about Jane, by the way.” Her voice was soft, still peppy like it had been in high school. “She was a good person.”

“Hi,” Emma said. “Yeah. It’s okay.” She smiled a bit. She was getting a little sick of the condolences, but she expected them from the town. She had to get used to them. “I didn’t think you’d be here. I was looking for Harvey.”   
  
“He’s with a patient right now,” Becky said. “You could come back later, though.” She smiled again, tapping her fingers on the counter. “Or schedule your appointment. Your birthday’s in January, The 15th, isn’t it?” How Becky remembered her birthday was January 15, Emma didn’t know.

“I had a physical before I came,” Emma laughed a bit. “I didn’t think you’d be a nurse.” It felt weird, talking to Becky with anything but malice. Strawberry Kool-Aid hair and self-done nose piercing with Sharpie tattoos Emma wouldn’t stand for this. She would have snapped at cheer captain Becky Barnes in a heartbeat. The peppy voice drove her nuts in the senior art class sophomore Emma had been forced to take to get credits that Becky had just  _ happened _ to be in. Now, though, it didn’t seem to.

“I...it took a couple of years to figure out what I wanted,” Becky said, rifling through papers. “But I’m here.” She gave Emma a short smile. “Can you just fill out papers to transfer your records back and bring them whenever you want?” She handed over a manilla folder. “Just so we have them on file in case you do get sick.”

“Yeah, of course,” Emma nodded, taking the papers. “Bye, Becky.” She had to go face the hardest part: the farmhouse.

“Bye, Emma.” Becky smiled and Emma ducked out the door, back into the spring air. How different was the town now? She noticed two teenage girls sitting down by the river, one with auburn hair smoking a cigarette and a blonde one hunched over a notebook, her back leaning on the other’s arm. She repressed a laugh at how similar the memory was to one from her own years. Another curly-haired girl watched a small brunette boy pick flowers and run them back to her with fistfuls of mostly grass and dandelions, but some daffodils too. She couldn't help but smile. As much as she hated the small-town, homey feeling, it did something to her closed-off heart. It made it feel like it was growing. Like she was the fucking Grinch.

She walked down the path and noticed a small daffodil on the side of the road. She remembered the small boy with the daffodils in his hand, and she bent down to pick it. The yellow flower petals made her feel a little better. Yellow was a happy color. It was the color of the sun, the color of daffodils, the color of smiley-face stickers that Emma and Jane stuck everywhere as small kids, on the milk bottles their mother sold and on Paul Matthews’ math notebook when she wanted to piss him off because he was a nerd who tripped over his own two feet when faced with her.

The farmhouse was just as Emma remembered. Solid brick base, oak wood slabs that made up the walls and the porch. The roof was just as red as it had always been, like her father had painted it when she was a toddler who sat and watched with awe as the paintbrush swiped across the shingles. She took a deep breath and put her bag down. This was home, where she was meant to be now. 

  
She unlocked the door with the key. The furniture was new. No doubt made by Tom himself. The kitchen was cleaned, the counters shining as light filtered in through the windows. Emma put the papers on the kitchen table, looking around. Everything looked new. She wondered how long Tom and Tim had been out of the house. Jane had died four months ago. Had they been out for longer? Did Jane move into the apartment above the blacksmith’s? The accident had warped Emma’s memories of the letters a bit. 

She peeked into the bedroom. New white sheets with a black and yellow quilt draped over them. She couldn’t help but smile. Someone had remembered her favorite colors from high school. She sat down on the bed and took a deep breath. She was home for the first time in twelve years. It stung, a little bit. 

She pushed the feeling down. She was home, and there was nothing she could change about it. She opened the curtains and took in the sunshine. Hatchetfield could be homey if she wanted it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone who can name all the characters in the background gets a heart !!!


	3. Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> becky thinks about her life. featuring: small bits of gay panic and stanley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, literally ALL description, but it's fine it's fine skjdhfjkh
> 
> this chapter discusses stanley (which means TW of past abuse)

Becky had never known herself to have feelings for another woman. Hers had respectively gone to Tom and, in the beginning, Stanley. But Emma Perkins made it hard to believe that she had never loved a woman before. New and improved Emma, at least. Not the dyed hair, chain smoker Emma. Seemingly sober, back to brunette Emma. Something about her made Becky’s heart skip a beat.

She wasn’t one for the saloon. Alcohol reminded her too much of Stanley. Her ex-husband who’d made her life miserable. She thanked God every day for that morning where she rolled over to find a cold bed, all traces of him gone as if he had never existed. No beer in the fridge, no cigarette packs on top of the fridge, nothing. Nobody seemed to mention his absence. He wasn’t very missed. Maybe the only person who missed him was Pam Foster. Regardless, they kept it quiet as if he never existed.

She was happy Harvey let her keep her job in the front. After Stanley left, she wasn’t sure what to do. He very quietly let her move out of the office and into the front to watch patients and keep everyone in line. Emma’s entrance had definitely thrown her off her game. She had only known how to love Tom Houston, but that had fizzled out over the years of watching him with Jane while she worked herself through days and years of abuse. It wasn’t that they didn’t care for each other anymore. They still cared about each other deeply. Just in a different way now. Less romantic than it had been. 

But why was her mind  _ still _ concentrated on Emma? It must have been because she had just returned. Becky sighed as she packed her things away for the evening. She picked up her bag and took her key. Harvey left before her some evenings. She locked the door of the clinic behind her and walked down the cobblestone path to her own house, not anymore Stanley’s. The green paint on the siding, Stanley’s choice, was chipping away and the one windowbox of flowers were bare from the winter’s cold and snow. But, as she pushed the door open, it felt a little more like hers. After Stanley, a few members of the town helped her revamp a little bit. Tom had built bookshelves to house the books in the basement that had been hidden away when Stanley moved in and Tim, his son, had painted them a dark brown to help. Paul just generally helped with moving things around, helping Becky redecorate, helping the easy stuff.  _ Jane _ had even given her some flower seeds to plant in the spring. Jane, who knew full well that Becky would go back to Tom if he was unmarried. It was something small, but Becky appreciated it, and even more so now that Jane was gone.

She sighed and set her bag down, going to her fridge and opening it. There was leftover spaghetti that she could eat. She tossed it into a pot to reheat it and sighed, rubbing her temples. A nasty headache had taken residence in her head. She filled a glass of water and drank from it. She hadn’t had water all day. That was it, probably.

As she got ready for bed, she kept thinking about Emma. The little Perkins girl had taken up a space in her mind, and she wasn’t exactly  _ objecting _ to it. She brushed her teeth and stared at herself in the mirror. She was Becky, who had gone through too much. Her parents would’ve been appalled at the thought of Stanley marrying her and what he did to her. She was getting better, day by day, but things lingered. Reflexes still happened. Her door was locked tight and the curtains drawn closed. It was habits she’d never grow out of. They made her feel a little more safe.

She pulled a shirt on in the bedroom, the double bed that was half-cold every night. Not that it even mattered. Stanley had never once held her in bed. Not lovingly at least. She fell asleep to the sound of the crickets chirping outside and the very faint music of the Stardrop Saloon.

In the morning, the sun rose over Hatchetfield and Becky was up, drinking the tea she made. She had never been one for coffee. It was bitter, and she enjoyed tea much more. She looked out the window and watched people pass by. Teenagers headed towards the railroad to go to school. She watched Sam, as terrible as he was, walk by towards City Hall as if he owned anything in this town. Charlotte sat home all day, save for when she went to Joja-Mart, the chain supermarket that had sprung up after Stanley’s disappearance. Wiley Cross owned it, and Becky would never set foot in there again after he made one comment on the mid-thigh skirt and blouse pairing she wore one day. 

She got her bag together. On days she wasn’t working at the clinic, she helped teach the little kids. There was little Gabe, age three, who was just sent with her so Sam and Charlotte didn’t need to deal with him, and Hannah, age thirteen, who was quiet and imaginative, and finally, little Tim Houston, age nine, who excitedly jumped for any new lesson. She put a couple books inside her bag and locked the door behind her when she stepped outside. 

The air was fresh and cool, not warm enough for summer but not cold either. Becky walked along the cobblestone path to the library, where Hannah stood with little Gabe at her feet. She had two brown braids that were stuffed under a blue baseball cap. She took a deep breath and smiled. This was her element. Kids were her element. Perhaps, in another universe, she would've been a teacher. One without Stanley. 

She watched Tim watch the fish in the water as Hannah read to Gabe quietly under a tree. She thought about what could happen someday. Kids with someone, maybe. She didn’t know. 

“Miss Becky?” Tim asked, “I’m bored.” He whined, rolling onto his back and staring at the clouds in the sky. Becky chuckled and produced a math book from inside her bag.

“Well, you never finished your math work,” She said softly. “Let’s work on that.”

If she could have snapped her fingers and have everything she ever wanted, Becky would have loved that. For now, though, it was her and the kids and her two jobs until she could.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment if you enjoyed !! or even read, i just LOVE getting comments 
> 
> tumblr:
> 
> @just-a-side-kick


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